A dead doctor
by Lou92
Summary: Clarice finds out Dr Lecter is dead. She doesn't cope well. but the question is, is he realy dead? :O please read. i update often but am in middle of my exams so please dont nag me :P thanks to those who are following.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Thomas Harris and his books and also the films that have been done. No infringement intended, I just want to share the my love of the story :D

'Doctor Lecter is dead' said the muted news channel on the television. Clarice Starling sat on the floor in her duplex she used to share with her old, 'loyal' friend Mapp. Mapp had been no longer able to stay with her, her action to go and save the monster was too much for her and she had moved out. It wasn't a sudden move though, she had stayed with Starling for at least a month but Starling was inconsolable at her loss. HER loss, not the FBI's loss of one of the ten most wanted, he was her loss. Starling was mourning. Every second of the day was spent prowling through news websites and the personal ads, but only finding empty drabbles of lonely men? It had been 3 months after Dr Lecter had dislocated his thumb to escape their metal bondage on that tainted night. The FBI had sacked her straight away, but had said to her she was lucky they didn't arrest her for helping in Krendlers death and letting a wanted serial murderer escape. Ha! She thought at the time, as if they had any evidence at all.

Starling barely ate, barely slept and barely did anything at all. Her eyelids flickering, she finally looked on that inevitable news broadcast. Dead curator of a Library found in Italy, with exact physical description of him. Her eyes read the words and her stomach dropped. Her heart rate increased so she felt like she couldn't breathe. "Nooooooooo!" She screamed. This couldn't be happening, she vomited but didn't bring up much. A bitter taste in her mouth, eyes unfocused with blurrrrr, she checked the time. Just 5 in the afternoon, her FBI buddies would still be there. Her mind lost, dead just like her Daddy. Voice still probing her deep, she walked out the door and started her car. Time to visit her old chums. As her car sped down her road, a neighbour knew she had finally lost it. Barely dressed with wild hair and still carrying a gun. He shook his head and closed the curtains, wondering how such a fine thing is so crazy.

This is all I have done so far, I already sort of know what is to happen. But please read and let me know what you think and if you have any ideas, I'm always open to new ideas :P.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. They belong to Thomas Harris.

LecterVille. You see I named someone after you here. Make sure you extend me the same courtesy. Hee hee.

Clarice Starling's mind was whizzing out of control. He couldn't be dead. He just couldn't. The one consistency in her life could NOT be dead. She did not know why she was having these thoughts but she had to find out if he was dead, and there was only one place she would be able to do that. She didn't have time to really debate as to the reasoning's behind her current mind set. To be honest, anyone should be happy an escaped serial killer was now dead. Right?

Her Mustang rumbled to a stop on a nearby side walk, near Quantico. There were an awful l lot of press cars her expert eyes told her. Perhaps they could tell her more. Walking to the front of the FBI building she noticed that Special Agent Fred Ville, one of Krendlers hounds, was outside about to make a statement to the press. Hovering at the back of the crowd she received some odd looks and people were murmuring around her. She had black bags beneath her blue bloodshot eyes, and she had the slight tainted look about her of someone who hadn't eaten and slept for days. Someone turned to her.

"Excuse me love, you look familiar, is everything alright?" He spoke to her, showing genuine concern. His face however was cold, poking in other people's business was his job after all.

"Erm... well Yes. I'm fine, I was wondering if you knew if Hannibal was really dead?" She felt nauseous just saying it.

"Well that's what we're here to find out." He hesitated and she noticed his distaste for Dr Lecter's spoken name. He was about to continue talking but the Agent started to talk.

"Hello everyone. I know you are all waiting for news on the identification of the dead curator and I'm sorry to tell you that nothing has been confirmed yet. Although we are fairly certain that the deceased is in fact Hannibal Lecter." At this he grinned and continued addressing the large crowd, but to Starling she stopped hearing.

"No." She whispered.

"What love?" The man was still looking at her.

"He can't be dead." She gazed at the floor, losing touch with her control. It leaves her like the extreme currents of a fast flowing river.

"Wait." The man stepped back from her like she was contagious. "You're that Starling chick, no wonder you don't want him to be dead. I knew what they said about you were true."

Starling looked up to look him in the eyes, her hands shaking with rage. Everyone in the crowd had turned to look at them now and even Special Agent Ville had stop jabbering to the crowd and was looking too.

"He is a monster, and I for one, am glad that he is dead!"

He blinked a surprised look on his face. He barely heard the bang, and as he fell to the ground he glanced down at his chest and saw blood gushing from him.

Clarice Starling stood with her gun still raised no remorse on her face. She breathes heavily and somewhere deep down inside her, a monster is satisfied at the sacrifice but it would not do to stop the blood. She glanced up at Agent Ville and shot him through the eye splattering nearby press with his brain and blood. With this she smiled, turned and ran cameras now on and following her with the flashes and flashes capturing the two men's doom.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: These characters belong to the marvellous Thomas Harris. I do not own them in any way and I am not making money from this story.

I would like to dedicate this to Lecterville, because she is too cool for school. =D

Hannibal Lecter sat marvelling at his own cunning and excellence. He felt a new sense of freedom and ahhhh it felt so liberating. Faking his death had been a breeze, but an exciting one at that. The curator he killed was just like him, and it would shake the trail of the FBI off him for a while until DNA testing proved it wasn't him. He suspected that the local police were on his trail in Florence. Although his dear old pal Mason was long dead in the swine's bellies, he couldn't be too sure that some other kidnap for ransom scheme could be going on. It was a risk coming back to Florence but the pull was too strong and Dr Lecter was never one to deny himself anything.

So faking his own death was the easiest way to get out of Florence and back into America. A few books left in the old man's house with 'obvious' Lecter signs about then. Well, that and the fact that he had signed the inside cover of his diary. Dr Lecter chuckled to himself. The apartment he managed to rent at such short notice wasn't perfect but it suited his present needs. At presence he didn't have any current aims in his life, except one. He hadn't seen Clarice since the night of Krendlers murders. True, he had been rejected but that was just part of the fun. He had smelt the arousal of Clarice that night and he wasn't about to let her walk away from him. Clarice had surprisingly not been in the news since the Tattler announcing her being let go from the FBI. He wondered how she had been coping. Well, he smiled to himself eyes flashing bright, soon he would find out.

Still smiling, a sight which frightened most creatures, he found the television remote by smell alone. He knew he would be the first article on the news, so when he switched it on he was shocked to the sight which met those maroon orbs. Hmmmmm, he thought once watching the images on the television. His Clarice needed some help it would seem. All her precious FBI was out looking for her. She now was a fugitive like him. This was going to be funnnnnnn. He stood up and walked out the door.

I will put more up but I'm doing my exams so I will do it soon. Reviews welcome please, but you know what your mum always said. If you have nothing nice to say, don't say anything at all.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not owe the rights to the characters. They belong to Thomas Harris. I am not getting money from this. I bow to Mr Harris.

Clarice Starling was still running.

But not literally, she was in a car she had broken into using those fabulous techie skills she had.

Her mind was blank.

She felt empty now; having lost everything in her life it didn't even make a mark onto her conscious mind that she had killed those men. She had no remorse, as her conscious mind just did not care.

Her unconscious however, held her. It was here that her feelings for Dr Lecter were. Finding out he was dead had exploded these repressed feelings and all the other ones she had repressed ever since a child into chaos. Chaos was what her mind was now.

She shuddered behind the steering wheel at the thought and for the first time in her life, she wished she was dead in the ground with her father. With Brigham. With Crawford. And now Dr Lecter. A silent tear crept down her face as she thought of him.

For all those months after he had stolen his kiss and left her, she felt a part of her disappear and she regretted her calling the FBI straight away. She knew that now, her true feelings were firm in her head and she tried to find him. Now it was too late. Now she was alone.

And so now she ran far, far, away to when she was last happy. Home to her Daddy.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters; they belong to Thomas Harris and his books. **

**Hey guys. Thanks to those who reviewed and are following this story. Sorry as I'm sitting my exams very soon it's hard to write very long chapters but I hope this satisfies you all. **

Dave Reynolds sat in the typical diner by the motorway eating a typical greasy sandwich. He glanced up at the rumble of a super charged Jaguar. The man who drove the vehicle glided into the diner closing the door behind him and removing his sun glasses with his right hand. He wore a casual black suit, which was exquisitely cut. He was a handsome man, small but Dave could tell he was strong by his build and the way he moved.

The man moved to the waitress and spoke to her. He couldn't quite hear what the man was saying but he spoke with a deep metallic voice that shivered him down to his bones. Ordering just a coffee the man took it to a booth on the other side of the diner whilst wrinkling his nose in apparent disgust. Dave laughed at this, many a time he had seen those upper class people enter his world and find it not good enough.

Dave was too old now to care; this greasy diner was his world now his wife had died. He came in every day from the caravan park just down the road in the field. Living in a caravan didn't bother him at all when his wife was alive. But now living the cold empty nights seemed to magnify the traffic and his mind could not sleep. He was dead inside now, as sleep was a function for the living.

About an hour had passed and the strange man was still sitting in the diner. Dave was amazed and could not help but watch his absolute stillness. He appeared to be waiting for something. However, as a young woman entered the diner he changed slightly. As if coming out of a trance, he went from absolute stillness to being still and yet not. Dave felt lost and eerie whilst watching this man and felt the need to leave right away.

However, he too could not stop looking at the woman who had just come in. She had fiery red hair and had the distinct expression in her eyes of a deer trapped in the headlights. But she was beautiful and looked familiar for a reason he couldn't quite remember. She did not stay long, just long enough to order some food to take away and get a bottle of water. Dave was not usually someone who liked to stare at people; however, with this woman he couldn't help but stare. There was something about her, something special. He could just tell. When she left the diner, the man on the other side from him was smiling. And his eyes, his eyes were glowing. Dave's mouth dropped open. Shivers starting from his fingertips and venturing down, he left his booth and walked out of the diner. The man just seemed wrong; maybe he was just too tired and was imaging things. Rubbing his eyes he started the journey through the car park to the field beyond.

It was here when he saw the young woman staring at the supercharged Jaguar with tears running down her face. He was about to go up to her and see if she was okay when she ran off, getting into a white van and quickly sped off. Dave felt grieved that she was so upset. He had children, all grown up and moved on, and he hated seeing this young woman cry. Granted however, she was in her 30's but that for an old man such as he was young. Putting his hands in his pockets, Dave shrugged and continued the short Journey to his home.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer. I do not own, please don't sue me. They belong to Thomas Harris. **

**The last chapter I was playing with, so please let me know what you think of it. I like it, but want to know if any of you like the whole from someone else's perspective too. **

Clarice Starling was driving a white van she had acquired from a supermarket car park. Being a Techie in the past made it easy for her to 'borrow' cars. It had been an hour from being in the diner and the sight of that supercharged Jaguar had made her stomach drop. The moment she saw it she got a lump in the throat. Time had stood still and she could just see him sitting in it driving along, being free. But not anymore.

She had to face that he was dead. Seeing the finer things in life should not have this effect on you just because you think of him, she was thinking to herself. He was dead; he had left her once more. But she knew he would never leave her mind. Just like her Daddy had never left her mind. But she knew this was worse, Hannibal Lecter owned her mind and her soul. Her heart, however...

She angrily forced the thoughts out of her mind. He did not own her heart! He did not! But deep inside she knew this was wrong. He had her heart ever since that touch in Memphis. Why else would she have killed for someone calling him a monster? Everyone called him a monster. She should call him a monster, and yet she did not. What did that make her?

Tears fell from her eyes thick and fast making it difficult for her to drive. Her mind was not on driving; her mind was only on one thing. And that was why she had failed to notice two cars back a supercharged Jaguar following her every turn.

Hannibal Lecter was thinking to himself how much he was pleased at the sight of her. Knowing she would be taking this route he sat in the diner of a whim that she would pass by. And oh he was right. He did not need a road map to take a shortcut to beat her here. He had everything he needed in his mind. One look at a map at its image was held in his brilliant mind. He knew she had seen his car and had cried. She really did puzzle him. If Jack Crawford had heard of his death, had he been alive, he would have been celebrating. But no not Clarice, she had killed 2 men and was now on the run. And she had cried seeing his car, hmmm he thought. After her rejecting him the last time they met he believed that her feelings for him were nonexistent.

However, perhaps for once in his life, Hannibal Lecter was mistaken. Her behaviour at his car was that of someone who had just lost a loved one. Crying at a memory of the recently departed is not uncommon. Was he her loved one? This really was going to be fuuunnn.

He continued to follow her into a turn in for a hotel where she planned to spend the night. She got out of her car and entered the building. Tonight, he thought to himself. Tonight he would make himself known to her.

**Let me know what you think. **

**Once again I will continue soonnn :P**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, this is a work of fanfiction. The characters belong to Thomas Harris.**

**Thank you for all reviewing. It keeps me going. Thanks for all the positive comments. :D**

Clarice Starling awoke with the lambs screaming. She put the pillow over her ears and clenched her eyes tight. But they were screaming still, screaming when she was awake now. She had to come to terms with the fact that he was dead. He has left her, like everyone else had. She brought her head out from under the pillow and saw that it was still dark and the moonlight was shining in patches on the whitewashed ceiling. She got up from her bed and looked out of the window. Pulling the curtain back she saw that the stars were out, little pinpricks of light. She remembered what he had said to her one time. 'Some of our stars are the same.'

She had the rare quality of not being blinded by tears; he alone had seen that in her. As she had no Daddy to wipe her tears and kiss the boo boos away anymore. Her resolve was crumbling by the screaming, like the cliffs by the sea. A solitary tear crept down her cheek and she looked down.

It was there. Again it was there. That black Jaguar from the diner.

Why was it here she sobbed now. Did spirits stalk now?

She quickly put on her clothes and left her room, moving without thinking. She had to see it, the car. It was beautiful, everything about it said Hannibal. He shone from it like a black diamond. It was small, sleek and elegant. Everything he was. But not anymore.

She exited the hotel and walked towards the black car, stealth like in the moonlight. It was there, booming over her it its grand presence. Her Jaw twitched but she no longer cried. Looking at it like she looked at her father's grave when he was buried. She shivered in effort to repress such memories. Pain, longing was what she had been reduced to.

She turned to the other side of the car park to her own van and took a crow bar out of the back of it. And without hesitation or showing any emotion at all she smashed the windscreen. Followed by whacking all inches of the car. It had to go, it just had to.

Hannibal Lecter did not sleep at night. He never had. He laid awake in his hotel room wondering how and when to go and see his precious Clarice. It was going to be fun he mused to himself, a ghost back from the dead. She would be a tricky one, he knew that. But oh how fun she would be.

It was then that he heard a shattering of glass from outside, followed by several other blows. It sounded like metal on a car. Prowling to the window he saw that it was indeed metal on a car, his car. He turned from the window and promptly left the room. The time was now it would seem.

Clarice was exhausted from her attack on the car. She had cut her hand deeply from glass and she was conscious of the feeling of blood running down her hand. But she felt no pain, she was numb. She knew that she must leave the scene soon, it wouldn't do to have the police turn up but she just did not care much anymore. She sunk to the ground beside the smashed car and leant against it. Perhaps both my parents were deep rollers she thought to herself. Damn it, she hated when he was right.

It was then that she heard a noise to her left and she quickly turned her head to look. And it was then that she found herself locking eyes with a pair of deep maroon eyes and her breathe left her, for her to drop into the dark abyss of unconsciousness.

**Hey, hope you liked. Please review, I will update soon yeah :D Louuuu x**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters; they are works of fan-fiction borrowed from Thomas Harris. **

**Thanks to: , MajorBachman, TheBestDamnThing96, Kanan the Immaculate, Lecterville, pinkheartzxo, xSaRaawHx and Estefania for all your reviews. You keep me going and make me happy. =D**

A well dressed man sat unnaturally still in the corner of his own spare bedroom of the house he was currently occupying. If we were to walk into the dark room, we would not see him sitting there. In fact we would barely notice a shadow in that corner.

What we would see however, would be a modern well furnished bedroom. Centre to the pale walls would be a large four poster bed with dark red sheets, the colour of blood. In the middle of the bed we would notice a woman with a pale face sleeping peacefully.

However, at closer inspection of this woman's face we would see the slight cracks in her forehead, the marks of anxiety and perhaps even rage. If we really looked closer we would see her eyes flickering behind her lids, that and the perspiration on her brow could only mean bad dreams.

The room is dark and still, too still in fact. It seems as if we gaze upon the eye of the storm, the centre of a storm which had been many years old. We can tell this as spiralling into the past from this point is the storms trail of destruction. And if the future could be seen in our eyes we would see more of the storm's path, going from this fixed point. But is destruction what it leaves in its path? It is only time that could tell.

If we would gaze completely around the room we would notice the unnatural man seated there, his nostrils flaring with a deep inhale. Perhaps he has found us, horrified we quickly flee. We would not survive being discovered here. We leave the man and woman, the woman slightly stirring in her bed, signs that she was soon to be awake.

**I know this is a little different, but I like a little variety in my story. I've written the next chapter, but it's on paper as I wrote it on a boring long train journey. I will type it up soon and get it on here. Sorry for the wait, I've been away for a while. Keep reviewing, cheers for following. **

**Lou **** x**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, they belong to Thomas Harris. **

Clarice Starling awoke to the tangy aroma of cooking. It was that split second between sleep and being awake that this smell pleased her. But then it all flooded back. Her grief grated against her soul, causing her to cry out. It was then that she took note of her surroundings. Silk sheets beneath her; this was not her house. Had she been arrested? Her mind was fuzzy. It was then that she noticed the being in the room with her. The sending from wherever it was that he had been sent once dead. She gazed upon the ghost, her eyes wide.

He knew she had to be handled with care, as she was a delicate almost broken warrior. There was an emphasis in his mind on the almost. He thought to himself about how much a warrior she was. He knew she had conflicting feelings about him as in her grief and anguish of his death she had killed to protect his good name. She was the only person who believed he had a good name, and this puzzled him. She of anyone had seen his capacity for destruction. And yet just the night previous she had tried to destroy his memory in her mind by physically destroying his car as it reminded her of him no doubt. Having loved and lost too late perhaps had been too much for her, he smiled to himself. He thought this was the reasons for her actions, her love for him. But with Clarice, he was never sure of reasons behind her action. He could never be sure if she were to deny him his freedom. She had to be handled with care. It was when he was sure that she had seen him that he approached her.

He looked down at her; she was showing signs of shock similar to those of last night which had caused her to faint. Grief really did do strange things to the human body. Today at least, her shock was less intense.

"Good morning Clarice," he spoke looking deep into her soul.

She moaned, shut her eyes and began to massage her temples. Opening an eye she saw that he was still there and began to sob. A hallucination she thought to herself, why couldn't he leave me alone even when he is dead? Her life fluttered before her eyes and she saw it in tatters. And now to top it all off she was going mad with these delusions and hallucinations.

Dr Lecter noticed her inward battle and spoke to her once more.

"Clarice, I am real, please look at me."

Now auditory hallucinations she thought to herself, and began to cry harder her shoulders violently shaking.

"Look at me please Clarice." Dr Lecter's voice deepened and the force of it made her look at him, her eyes red and sore.

"You can't be real, you're dead." She pleaded looking up at him in disbelief. She spoke with more than a hint of her West Virginian accent, signs of her beginning to crack.

Dr Lecter sat down on the bed next to her and brought a hand to her face. She felt its warmth and flinched. Tearing the covers off herself she jumped up from the bed and ran towards the door. However, there was a phone on a side table in that direction too and Dr Lecter may have misunderstood her true intentions. She was stopped on her way when he on her and pinning he to the wall.

"Clarrrrrrrice." He rasped, his face inches from hers.

At this moment, they were thrown back into the memory of the night at the Chesapeake. The memory of the kiss they shared sent shivers down her spine and he knew it. Once again a solitary tear fell from down her cheek. He looked at her puzzled and bringing his dangerous mouth to hers he violently licked the tear from her cheek.

"Why?" He asked her, looking puzzled and tightening his grip on her against the wall.

"Those men." she whispered to him looking deep into his eyes.

"You are a warrior Clarice, you did what you thought was right and–"

"What about you Doctor!" She struggled against him trying to get away. "You left me, I ran outside after you left me and you were gone. I placed ads in every single paper I could and you never came for me. I knew when the FBI sacked me and once Ardelia was gone that my life was empty but not for those reasons. It was you at night my heart craved for. But you never came, and then you were dead..." By this time she was hysterically trying to get away.

"Clarice" he spoke, his mouth menacingly close to hers. "I stopped looking for ads. I felt as if you Juliet and me Romeo in a way. If I continued to pursue you like cat and mouse, we would both reach our sticky end. I had not forgotten that at our last meeting you tried to make me give up my freedom. I could not allow you to do that Clarice."

"Now." He spoke again while releasing her to fall to the floor. "Food is almost ready; there is a comfortable bathroom just through there. Please use it and there are also suitable clothes you may like in your closet. Then come downstairs, I do not want to be kept waiting. We can discuss this further then."

With that he left her sobbing on the floor and went down the stairs.

Clarice was lost, she had told him that her heart craved for him and he had rejected her. Perhaps he did not have feelings for her like she thought. Maybe he was bored of her and would meet her sticky end now. All those newspapers were wrong too, Hannibal Lecter did not have a thing for her. But she did have a big thing for him. She saw it now, an ex federal agent was in love with a serial killer was most likely going to try and kill her now he was bored with her. She could not stay in this house any longer. She wiped her tears and began to look around the room for a way out. Her mind was lost, and she found that she could not think. A block had been formed in her mind now and she was distressed.

She opened the bathroom door and found a large window opposite her. Having tried to open the window she found that it was about 20 foot above the ground but it was stuck shut. Panicking she grabbed the heavy armchair from the bedroom and thrust it into the window causing it to shatter. She broke the rest of the window out using her elbow and promptly hoisted herself to be seated on it her legs dangling outwards. It really was high up she thought to herself, and yet she just had to get away. Her mind was lost with blur and she found that it was impossible to think straight. She noticed a tree in front of her which she could jump into and then climb down. She prepared herself for the jump.

Downstairs Hannibal Lecter heard the smash from upstairs followed by the loud thump from outside. He ran out and the sight in front of him made him lose his unnatural control. Hurrying to her laying on the floor he saw that she was fighting with consciousness and covered in leaves and branches. Lifting her from the floor and back into the house to grab his medical kit, her last thoughts were of how he would surely eat her heart now he knew she loved him. The darkness spread from the outside of her eyes and unconsciousness drowned her.

**Hey, I will update very soon as I love this story. Review please, I love your comments. **

**Lou :D**


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